Star Trek: Frontier
by Hydrofluoric Acid
Summary: The year is 2763, the galaxy is explored and the Federation is more diverse than ever. The crew of the ORION must participate in an officer exchange with the Cardassians to seal a treaty. Rated K-plus for mild swears and blood in one chapter.
1. The Beginning

The bridge of the _Orion_ was spic and span, as clean as the day she was built. Her crew was turned out with their boots newly polished and those that had hair had combed it even more neatly than usual. Captain Hughes glanced around at them with a mixture of approval and amusement.

"This ought to satisfy our friends," Hughes said, making no attempt to conceal his grin. It was not widely shared. Lieutenant K'vas Chell and Ensign T'Lara never smiled, of course, much less grinned. Andorians and Vulcans didn't grin while on assignment. Ensign Reeva, the tiny Arcadian pilot, gave a quiet smile. Lon Hadal, the conn officer, merely shrugged. Even Saden's lips were tight.

"I'd like you all to remember that this Cardassian will be your commander for the next three days," the captain said unnecessarily. "Needless to say, our Cardassian friends will have high expectations... and I wouldn't be surprised if they have some mischief planned. But I'm confident everything will go according to plan. This is supposed to be an educational experience, after all."

Silence.

"Captain," Chell said, "this could be a mistake. We don't know anything about these people beyond ancient history and the fact that they've been nothing but hostile this past century."

Andorians, Captain Hughes thought with a slight chuckle. Suspicious as hell, and K'vas was no exception. It was why he made such a good security officer. Nonetheless Hughes couldn't resist a jibe: "I'm sure you can handle _one_ Cardassian for a few days, Lieutenant."  
Chell straightened. "Aye, sir."

Shaking his head, Captain Hughes sat in his chair. In the two years he'd known Chell, the Andorian had never once laughed at a single one of his jokes. No mean feat, that. Even T'Lara had been known to crack a smile. Captain Hughes smiled and addressed Reeva, the pilot. "Set a course for the Cardassian border," he said. "Bearing three-one-three mark four. Warp five."

"Aye, sir," Ensign Reeva said.

"Engage."

* * *

The bridge of the _Gavran_ was always clean, but on Gul Narat's orders it had been made to fit the very definition of 'pristine'. His two Glinns were not as enthusiastic about it as he would have liked, but neither had complained about being set to the task of removing every particle of dust and every single finerprint from the consoles, and that was what mattered to him.

He could do without their approval, but he would have obedience.

Now they both stood to attention before him, hair even more neatly brushed than usual, backs straight and shoulders back, watching him attentively for his orders. He smiled. "Glinn Vekal," he said. If it was possible, she straightened even further, attention heightened. Briefly, Gul Narat wondered if _that_ was possible. He knew full well that Glinn Vekal saw, heard and remembered everything. Regardless, he continued: "You've read everything we know about how these starships operate. You're not to make any mistakes. You're going to be an ambassador for the Cardassian Union." He paused, and offered her a smile. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"I'll make every effort, Gul," she answered with a pointed dip of the head.

Gul Narat let the non-answer slide and smiled again. He held out his hand and opened it, revealing the silvery object he held there. It was a small rod, four centimetres long and half a centimetre wide. Glinn Vekal almost managed to keep a blank expression, but her mouth twitched. The movement was too small to tell whether it would have formed a smile or a frown. Gul Narat met her eyes. She knew what it was, of course. "Will we need this?" he asked in a low voice.

"Of course not, Gul." Her voice was level even as she held his stare, something few of his subordinates could do. Gul Narat ignored her tone and scrutinised her face instead. There was no defiance there, only calm acceptance. He nodded again.

"Very good. On the _Orion_, I expect you to follow every order the captain gives you. I don't think I need to remind you that this is going to be a peaceful mission."

Another rather pointed dip of the head, accompanied by a slight smile indicating in the politest possible way that only an idiot would think she needed to be reminded, and Glinn Vekal returned to attention. Gul Narat nodded. He gave her one of his famous _looks_, the kind that communicated paragraphs of orders to her. It was not as effective as verbal communication but infinitely faster. Glinn Vekal accepted her dismissal with a slight bend at the waist, just barely leaning forward, the movement almost lost as she stepped around Gul Narat and left the bridge.

Silence.

Gul Narat waited a few seconds, and then addressed his remaining Glinn. "I expect you to act as a guide for this Starfleet officer. Show him around. Assist him if necessary. We want to make this a _pleasant_ exchange, after all."

Glinn Ledrec bowed his head. It was a deeper, briefer dip than Glinn Vekal's. "Shall I also keep an eye on him?" he asked. A polite way of asking whether this Starfleet officer was to be kept under constant surveillance.

"No," Gul Narat answered, "absolutely not. He's to be our _guest_, not a prisoner. And I expect you and the crew to give him your full respect and cooperation."

"I obey, Gul." A bow that included the shoulders, this time. Then Ledrec paused. "Gul Narat, may I ask why _we_ were chosen for this exchange?"

Gul Narat narrowed his eyes. "I was not informed," he said lightly. "And even if I were, I don't see why I should share command decisions with you."

"Then may I ask why Glinn Vekal is to be sent to the _Orion_?"

"Those are my orders," Gul Narat said. "Your only concern is to have them carried out." He paused. "But if it comes down to a fight, I would rather have you on board." He deliberately didn't clarify what he meant by that statement. "Are we in position at the Federation border?"

"Yes, Gul."

"Good." He gave Glinn Ledrec a _look_, and the other bowed at the waist and left the bridge as well. Gul Narat smiled to himself and sat down in his chair, awaiting the Starfleet officer.


	2. Glinn Vekal

The transport room of the _Orion_ was empty but for the transporter chief, a Ninjarian woman named Mkaya Kym, and Commander Lakahn. The latter was eager for the exchange. Captain Hughes had asked whether he was conflicted; he'd answered in the negative as expected, but it was true.

He was a Bajoran, but he was also a Starfleet officer. Cardassians had the reputation, more or less universal, of being untrustworthy and cruel, but Lakahn was inclined to reserve judgement. He knew very well that stereotypes were rarely accurate. And he was very excited at the prospect of being the first Starfleet officer since before the Fifty Years' War to be welcomed aboard a Cardassian vessel.

"The _Gavran_ says she's ready, sir." Kym glanced over her console at the Commander, as if unsure whether to salute as well. She was new, he recalled. He gave her a tight smile and a nod: At ease. Visibly reassured, the Ninjarian looked back at her screen. Commander Lakahn straightened his shoulders and looked at the empty transport pad.

"Energise," he said.

Behind him, Kym nodded and slid her fingers up her screen, bringing the settings to their correct levels. There was a hum as the transporter activated, and a Cardassian materialised on the transport pad.

She was a tall woman, about half an inch taller than Lakahn was, and if he hadn't looked twice at her face he would have been prepared to swear he was looking at a man. She had angular features and a prominent jaw, and wore her hair short and slicked back from a high, domed forehead. The ridges around her eyes and on her forehead were sharp, angled shapes. Her skin was grey and her eyes black and flinty. Lakahn wasn't afraid of much, but his mouth suddenly felt dry as he regarded the Cardassian.

If she noticed his nervousness, she gave no sign of it. "Glinn Vekal, here to relieve you, sir." She had a very soft voice, not what he would have expected. He was reminded of a snake.

But etiquette was to be observed. So he swallowed his nervousness and nodded. "First Officer Commander Lakahn. I stand relieved."

The Cardassian dipped her head. "I've never been aboard a Federation ship before," she observed, sounding amused, mouth curving up slightly at the corners. "It's colder than I expected," she added with a chuckle, then frowned briefly. "Is it always this... bright?"

"Well, yes." Lakahn grinned. He was about to comment, but then remembered himself. "This way, Glinn Vekal." Pause. "Oh, sorry. Commander. My apologies."

Vekal smiled. "'Commander'," she repeated. "Now there's a title I never thought I'd hear applied to me." She followed Lakhan into the corridor, scanning the faces and uniforms that passed by with interest. Lakahn had to remind himself that these must be new sights to the woman. To him, they were the same faces and uniforms he encountered every day, but he supposed it might be overwhelming to someone like the Cardassian. She'd probably never been this close to an 'alien' before, and the _Orion_ was one of the most diverse ships in the quadrant.

"Have you ever gone through one of these exchange programs before?" Lakhan asked, making conversation. But the Cardassian shook her head.

"Never!" Vekal exclaimed, and then chuckled at herself. "It was unheard of, Commander. Until a few years ago, officially at least, friendly contact with other races was considered nothing short of treason," she said bluntly. "It wouldn't have been permitted, though frankly I think the Federation wanted nothing more to do with us than we did with them." She paused. "I've read every declassified file we have on Federation ships and their crew, but there wasn't much. And most of it is horribly out of date, of course. Not to mention that the current information was geared towards -how shall we say- somewhat more _hostile_ encounters."

"Sounds a lot like our files," Lakhan joked. They entered the turbolift. It was one of the most brightly it places on the ship; the Cardassian squinted. Lakahn felt something in the primitive part of his mind flicker to life at the change in her features. It was a blind squint, reflexive, but it made her look like some reptilian predator from ages gone by. "Deck One," Lakahn said firmly to the computer. _You're imagining things,_ he told himself. _Read too much of their history._ He remembered being shocked at the accounts of the occupation of Bajor. But the Cardassians had evolved since then.

His combadge clicked. "_Bridge to Lakahn,_" the captain's voice said.

"Here, sir."

"_The _Gavran _reports ready for transport. They request permission to beam you over immediately._"

"Why?" Glinn Vekal asked. She sounded surprised. Lakahn glanced at her, and echoed her question: "Did they say why, Captain?"

"_Some sort of emergency. Gul Narat refused to be any more specific._"

Vekal had her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to one side. Lakahn considered for half a second, then nodded. "I'll go to the transport room now. Lakahn out." He tapped his badge and turned to the Cardassian. The turbolift stopped. "Well," he said. "Good luck."

After a second's pause, the Cardassian dipped her head and stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge. As soon as the doors had closed, a humming filled the air and Lakahn felt his form begin to dissipate. He looked around in confusion and realisation.

Then he disappeared from the _Orion_.


	3. Bridge Crew

Vekal was slightly nervous as she stepped onto the _Orion_'s bridge. The bright lights, the unfamiliar species, the expressions on the faces that met hers... She shook her head to clear it. _This is the _USS Orion_, not Keltok Nor. That was decades ago._ So she put her nervousness aside. This would be difficult enough.

"Acting First Officer Glinn Vekal reporting for duty," she said to the bridge at large, and then saluted the captain after the human fashion.

"Welcome to the _Orion_," he said. "I'm Captain Patrick Hughes." Vekal widened her eyes in slight surprise. She recognised the name: _Hughes, Patrick James, serial number SP-936-231,third-most decorated captain in Starfleet, seventy-four years of age, assigned his first command at twenty-six, made first contact with eighteen races, student of botany and history, diplomat, tactician. Played a central role in four battles against Cardassia and probably prevented many times that number against other races. An impressive man. Practically retired, now._ She bowed at the waist. "It's an honour to meet you, sir." Absolutely true.

Captain Hughes smiled without any warmth and looked around. "You've met my first officer. Allow me to introduce the rest of my crew." Vekal nodded.

"This is Lieutenant Chell." An Andorian, blue-skinned, white-haired, male, six-one, grim. "Ensign T'Lara." A Vulcan, female, blonde, five-seven, equally grim. "Security." Vekal nodded.

Either the Andorians and the Vulcans had made peace during the Apartheid, or hers was not the only pioneering project on his ship. Certainly the two had still been bitter foes when Cardassia had formally closed her borders, but much could happen in eighty years and everyone already knew that their knowledge of external affairs had lapsed a bit.

Captain Hughes continued: "Lieutenant Junior Grade Hadal." At first, Vekal assumed he was human, but then she noticed his eyes and the expression on his face and revised her conlcusion. A Betazoid, black-haired, black-eyed, male, five-nine. "Communications," the captain continued. _Telepath_, Vekal thought, instantly on high alert. She nodded, however.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Reeva." An Arcadian, gloved, brunette, female, four-eleven. "Our pilot." Vekal nodded.

"Counsellor Saden." A humanoid with textured red-and-yellow skin, bald, surprisingly beautiful, not in uniform, female, five-six. Those were Vekal's initial impressions. But as she watched, the alien's textured skin turned grey and scaly, and Vekal took a step back in surprise. She was staring at a Cardassian version of the alien beauty. It was a perfect replica, down to the pale blue tinge on the inside of the imposter's crest. It took Vekal a full second to formulate a response. "A changeling?" she asked neutrally. She didn't add _one of the those who destroyed Cardassia three hundred years ago_. It wasn't needed.

Counsellor Saden shook her head and reverted to her former appearance. "Genetically enhanced," she said with ice just under the surface. "I'm Suliban."

And not a counsellor. That was Vekal's guess. Or maybe she was, but this woman was also and _primarily_ something else. And whatever she was, Vekal didn't like her. But she was here to make friends, not enemies, so she simply gave the Suliban woman the same nod the others had received. Yet Vekal felt a tingle in the back of her skull. To assuage it, she consulted her memory:

The Suliban were hardly any more advanced than the humans, perhaps less so, but they were a people torn by whatever the nomadic equivalent of a civil war was. And the last Vekal had heard, only the wrong side had genetic enhancements. She narrowed her eyes.

Maybe the captain sensed the tension in the room, because he cleared his throat and held out a PADD. "I've prepared this for you. A list of protocols and courtesies to be observed on this ship, as well as a roster and some technical specifications. But first I'd like to speak with you. In my ready room."

Vekal dipped her head. It was easy enough to assume that he wanted to be assured of her loyalties, capabilities, et cetera. "Yes, sir." She paused. Looked around discreetly. Four doors led off the bridge, not including the two turbolift exits. A twenty-five percent chance, which wasn't good. "Ah... Which is your ready room, sir?"


	4. The GAVRAN

Commander Lakahn found himself in the hot, dark transport room of the _Gavran _with a tall, male Cardassian looking down his rather formidable nose at him. "Glinn Ledrec," the giant said, introducing himself with the slightest dip of the head. It was a large head, with a square jaw and heavy features. "No time for formalities, I'm afraid," he continued. "We've just received an emergency call for help from the Ytrem system. A Cardassian station is under some kind of attack. At the moment, Gul Narat is discussing the situation with his superiors, but he's quite anxious to meet you. If you'll follow me..." Glinn Ledrec gave Lakahn the same sort of half-bow Vekal had given, and then led him out of the transport room.

The Cardassian walked briskly. Lakahn had to struggle to keep up. Added to the fact that the temperature was uncomfortably high, and he was sweating by the time he reached the bridge. Discreetly he wiped a drop from his brow. It was more the heat than the exercise; as a Starfleet officer Lakahn was very fit, but he was used to the pleasantly cool atmosphere of the _Orion_. This was like a sauna. He remembered Glinn Vekal's comment aboard the _Orion_ and had to chuckle.

The bridge of the _Gavran_ was large and spacious and dark. A raised platform, a foot high and four wide, ran around the back and sides of the bridge. In the centre of the room, also raised, was a large chair with consoles to either side. Behind it and off to the sides were two larger consoles, set so a Cardassian or a tall human could stand behind them. Lakhan turned to ask Glinn Ledrec if one of these was his, but the large Cardassian was gone and the door to the bridge was closed.

A polite cough sounded from behind him, and Lakhan turned to see a young-looking Cardassian standing in one of the other doorways leading off the bridge.

"Gul Narat?" Lakahn asked to be polite, without really expecting an affirmative answer.

But the Cardassian nodded.

He was short. That was Lakahn's first impression of the Cardassian Gul. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting –a towering, terrifying man, Vekal's reptilian hardness intensified. The stories of the Occupation flashed through his mind and Lakahn had to suppress a shudder. Undoubtedly some part of his subconscious had expected Gul Narat to be cold, intimidating, with cruel black eyes and a perpetual sneer on his face.

Instead, he was a rather small, affable man with a disarming smile. Unlike the cold harshness of Vekal's features, the ridges around Gul Narat's eyes were round and his eyes were just darker than the colour of molten chocolate. They showed nothing but welcome. "Ah," Gul Narat said. "Commander Lakahn; welcome aboard." Lakahn was thrown, for the second time that day, by a Cardassian's voice; Gul Narat's was light and unconcerned and his eyes sparkled as if Lakahn were the only person in the world worth meeting.

"It's a pleasure to be here, sir." Still a bit overwhelmed, Lakahn dipped his head as he'd seen Glinn Vekal do.

Gul Narat smiled and returned the gesture. "The pleasure's all mine, I assure you. But I'm afraid I have to start our acquaintance with an apology, Commander. I'd intended to welcome you on board with a bottle of _kanar_, but as you can see-" he sighed in some frustration "-there has been a most _unfortunate_ incident in Cardassian space on a station called Keltok Nor. As the closest warship, naturally, _we_ are called on to investigate."

"An incident?" Lakahn repeated, startled. He wasn't sure, but if he remembered the area maps correctly, the nearest Cardassian station was four or five light-years away. What sort of an 'incident' could pull the _Gavran _that far away, with such urgency, in the middle of what must surely be one of the most important events in sealing the peace treaty?

Gul Narat gave a wry smile. "Apparently, one that is of the utmost importance to the Union. When I have details, Commander, you will be informed."

"The timing of this is quite a coincidence," Lakahn observed. "Sir."

A nod. "It most certainly is, Commander." Pause. "Surely you don't think me _n__aive_ enough not to have thought of that? On Cardassia we have a saying," he explained. "'Coincidences happen all the time, and they should never be trusted'. I for one wouldn't be very surprised if this were someone's _brilliant _idea of undermining the treaty; but we have our orders. They will be followed.

"On that note," the shorter Cardassian continued, "we will arrive at Keltok Nor within the hour. I suggest you spend the time familiarising yourself with the ship, Commander. Glinn Ledrec will show you your quarters and explain your duties." Gul Narat turned aside and sat in his chair just as the door opened, revealing the large Glinn. Lakahn hesitated. He was used to being dismissed verbally, and it took him a second and a curious glance from Gul Narat to figure out what he was to do. Somewhat sheepishly, he left the bridge and followed Glinn Ledrec through the narrow, hot passages of the ship.


	5. Captain Hughes

Captain Hughes' ready room was smaller than Gul Narat's on the _Gavran_.It was cold, bright, done up in a pale salmon colour. Aside from a desk, a chair and assorted small sculptures on the ledge ringing the wall, it had little decoration. A potted plant stood to the right of the door as Vekal entered and a portrait in a wooden frame hung on the left wall. The portrait captured her attention immediately, triggering something from her memories of her recent study of Starfleet. It showed a male human of some fifty or sixty years of age, bald, not quite smiling at the camera. He wore a red uniform with a captain's rank markings, the design of which placed him in the early 24th century. Something in Vekal's mind seized that detail and latched onto it.

Captain Hughes walked around the desk and sat in the chair, folding his hands on the desk. Vekal remained where she was, in the centre of the room, regarding the framed image. Captain Hughes noticed her attention. "A great man," he said of the portrait. "One of the greatest in Starfleet history."

Vekal remembered the face from an ancient transcript. A strong man, certainly. Respected, knowledgeable. Clever for a human of those days, but that meant little. And he had been an enemy. Something like anger flashed in her mind at the exact recollection of the transcript, but she controlled herself. "He helped shape the history of this quadrant," she replied diplomatically.

"Indeed," Captain Hughes agreed. Pause. "When I was assigned to this post," he began, "I was very nervous. I'd never commanded a ship before, not for any length of time. I'd been told what to expect, and I thought I was ready. But suddenly I was surrounded by people I'd never met, _captain_ of a ship I'd never been on in my life, and everyone expected me to lead them."

His voice had taken on a more commanding tone, expectant, but though Vekal's mind was racing to formulate a response, she couldn't seem to grasp what was wanted of her.

Captain Hughes watched her discomfort with some of his own apparent. Nevertheless he ploughed on. "So," he said as if coming to a point, "I can understand that all this might be somewhat… overwhelming for you."

She remembered his rather cold smile aboard the bridge and said nothing. It was fairly obvious that he wanted her to feel at ease, and that alone was enough to make her muscles tense. Aside from which, he had fought -and killed- dozens of Cardassians. The disputes during the first half of the eighty years' Apartheid had been before her time, but she knew that this Captain had participated in several of them in his youth, and had been noted as a dangerous foe with instincts for battle. How easily could those memories be pushed aside?

"I don't want you to be afraid to speak your mind," Capain Hughes continued. "As First Officer, it's your duty to point out anything you feel I might have missed, and I'm going to be relying on you to do that."

How could one command a ship effectively while having to debate one's decisions, especially in the heat of battle? Vekal tried to imagine it, failed. Nonetheless it was a direct order, and as such would be carried out. She dipped her head. "I obey, Captain."

The statement was acknowledged with a nod. "This," he said, again brandishing the PADD he'd offered earlier, "lists the crew and their departments."

Vekal knew that. "I remember, Captain." She was vaguely insulted by the implication that she needed to be reminded, but remembered that this human outranked her and made no comment.

"Lieutenant Chell will show you your quarters. The rest of the morning is yours. You should take the opportunity to read up on the ship." There was a pause, during which Vekal idly recalled that the PADD the Captain held had a maximum capacity of some six moderately-sized files. She estimated it would take her no more than two hours to commit the contents to memory, probably far less. The Captain continued: "Afterwards, I'd hoped you'd join me and the staff in the Officer's Mess for lunch. Once that's done, the senior staff will show you their departments." Another, longer silence. "On a more personal note," said Captain Hughes, and several warning bells went off inexplicably in Vekal's mind, "welcome to the _Orion_. I'm glad to have you."

Relieved, though she wasn't sure why, Vekal nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Captain."

He held out the PADD again and she stepped forward and took it before he could change his mind again. Deciding that thanking him a second time would be excessive, Vekal simply dipped her head to Captain Hughes. As soon as she had the PADD, she stepped back two paced, reestablishing the space between them. "Dismissed," he said, not unkindly.

_Starfleet doesn't exactly deal in subtleties_, Vekal thought dryly as she turned to leave. The door slid aside as she approached, revealing Lieutenant Chell waiting for her just outside.


	6. Lieutenant Chell

"This way, sir," Lieutenant Chell said, not exactly curtly but certainly with no friendliness in his tone. A professional soldier; she could respect that. Vekal followed him. They entered the turbolift, Chell taking a spot near the exit, standing aside to allow her to enter. As he did so Vekal noticed that he kept his face turned carefully away from her and that he drew back as she passed by.

She made no comment. "Deck Seven," Lieutenant Chell said.

As the turbolift began to move, Vekal inspected her taller companion. Not that there was any need; the details of his appearance were already stored fully and permanently in her brain. But it was something to do.

Overall, he gave a trim impression. Older than her, relatively, and probably absolutely. His skin had the faintest of cyan tinges to it, perhaps indicative of some Aenar heritage. Vekal recalled an image of a quarter-Aenar and compared its colouring to Lieutenant Chell's. She estimated that he was one-sixteenth Aenar, which meant that one of his parents had been a quarter-Aenar. Her interest was immediately piqued. She'd never studied Andorian biology; knew only that there were four genders and therefore assumed there were four parents to each pair. It opened an entirely new field of study.

Aside from the pits and grooves she might expect on any face, Lieutenant Chell had no distinctive markings. He had a square jaw, a wide mouth and a large nose on the brink of qualifying as 'hooked'. Under triangular white eyebrows, his eyes were a dark grey, piercing though they remained firmly averted from hers. His ears were larger than her own but smaller than an average human's. The Andorian's antennae, six-jointed, were at attention and his mouth, wide and thin-lipped, was set in a grim line. His hair was rather short and as white as his eyebrows.

The turbolift stopped and Lieutenant Chell stepped off. "This way, sir." Vekal nodded and followed, keeping an appropriate distance from the Andorian. She made casual note of the route, but her attention was focused mainly on the faces of the crewmembers passing them. There were fewer here, Deck Seven evidently not being frequented by crewmen on duty, but she saw seven species she recognised, four she didn't, and smiled to herself.

The few faces that turned up to meet her gaze expressed distrust and perhaps dislike, but Vekal wasn't surprised. Many of them would have had parents who'd served during the Fifty Years' War, and few of those who'd served had returned in one piece. Many had not returned at all.

Lieutenant Chell stopped. "Section 4, Cabin 31," he announced. He pressed a button beside the door and it slid open. "Yours, sir."

Vekal nodded. Then, remembering that Starfleet seemed to require verbal dismissal, she added: "Thank you." After a momentary pause, during which nothing happened, "Dismissed."

"Sir."

As the Andorian walked off, Vekal entered her new quarters.

They were comprised of four rooms. The first, in which she found herself upon entering, was a receiving room of sorts with a table, a couch and four plush chairs in addition to the sculptures and decorations that seemed to be in every section of the ship. To a human they might have been comforting and unobtrusive. Vekal found them ugly, and had to wonder how long one would survive in a room such as this under phaser fire. With sculptures shattering and shards flying around, she expected she would lose an eye at least.

Gul Narat's ready room was similarly decorated, though more tastefully, and Vekal happened to know that the sculptures and the single painting that hung behind his desk were affixed to their surfaces by permanent magnetic fields. Her own quarters were small and bare, simply out of personal preference. Vekal liked to travel light and have her possessions within easy reach.

She shrugged the matter off and continued exploring. The second room she entered was presumably a more private lounge, with a large window opening onto the stars. Breathtaking, Vekal thought. Though there was another sculpture in a corner, the room was otherwise devoid of decoration. Again, there was a table and three chairs, as well as a longer, more elegant couch, but nothing else.

The third room, opposite the private lounge, was a bedroom. Adjoining it was a washroom, having in it a toilet and a sink with a mirror above it and a shower and nothing else. Vekal left the washroom and reentered the bedroom, inspecting the place where she was to sleep. She pressed a hand against the mattress experimentally and felt it sink in deeply. Shuddered. She didn't dare sit on it for fear of being absorbed into the bed. Nor could she imagine sleeping on such a thing. The couch in the private lounge looked more inviting.

Otherwise, the suite was done up in an inoffensive grey colour, not bad, though her preference ran towards warmer colours, browns and reds. Aside from the irritating decorations, only two things bothered her.

"Computer?" she asked tentatively, quietly, and heard a chime in response. "Is it by any chance possible to lower the lighting eighty percent and increase the temperature twenty degrees?"

"_Affirmative_."

When nothing happened, Vekal sighed in something like irritation. "Do it, please."

As the chime sounded and the lighting dimmed, Vekal smiled. She took a seat and opened the first file on the PADD.


	7. Keltok Nor

"_First Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 71026.3. I'm quite impressed with the _Gavran_. What she lacks in strength and shielding, she makes up for with speed. We're warping towards the Ytrem system at a factor of 9.4. The journey should take only a few more minutes, but Gul Narat assures me that this speed is 'more than sustainable'. He claims this ship can sustain Warp 9.9 for days, even weeks. I don't know of any Starfleet ship that's half as versatile._

"_As for the crew, I have no complaints. I've spend the morning with Glinn Ledrec, getting a quick introduction to the departments. These Cardassians are extraordinarily focused; you can see the attention that goes into every tiny detail of their work. Everything is just so. The way things are run here, you get your orders and you carry them out. There's absolutely no argument, no discussion unless your superior asks a question. It seems we're expected to blindly trust what we're told. I can't say I like it, but it seems to work. Aside from Gul Narat's directions, it looks like I'll be running half the ship myself. It's like being back on the _Orion_, only having her crew replaced by the computer. It's somewhat unnerving, but I can't deny its efficiency._"

Lakahn stopped to collect his thoughts. The morning had gone by in a whirr. According to Ledrec, he was responsible for the scientific, medical and engineering departments, which together made up about half the ship. Ledrec oversaw the tactical and security departments, the duty watch rotations, as well as the weaponry, apparently a separate department here. Lakahn had met with each of his Gils, department heads, and found the experience dizzying. The chain of command, Ledrec had explained, was very rigid here; the Gils would expect his orders to be both precise and accurate. They would be carried out unquestioningly, and if he, Lakahn, gave any faulty orders it would be on his head.

It was Testing Day at the Academy all over again.

Suppressing a shudder, Lakahn continued: "_I'm told Keltok Nor used to be a mining station, built just before the Fifty Years' War. It was taken over by Klingons, and taken back sometime before the Apartheid. But it's still on the edge of Klingon space, and the government doesn't have a lot of influence there. Glinn Ledrec says just under half of the inhabitants of the station are Klingon, and you'll find all sorts of races there. The Cardassians are actually a minority, it seems. They use the station as a penal colony. I -_"

Lakahn broke off, suddenly aware that the door had opened. Glinn Ledrec stood in the doorway. It was barely wide or tall enough to accompany his frame. There was a few seconds' silence. Ledrec waited, as if expecting Lakahn to do something obvious only to him.

"Yes?" Lakahn asked.

"You're wanted on the bridge," the hulking Cardassian informed him.

Again Lakahn followed Ledrec through the many passages of the Gavran. This time the latter walked even more quickly than before, and Lakahn had to jog to keep up. Combine the exercise and the oppressive heat, and he was sweating heavily by the time they reached the bridge. It showed as a dark trail down the front of his shirt and as beads on his forehead.

As Ledrec took his position and Lakahn remained where he was, unsure of what exactly his orders were, he realised that Gul Narat was looking at his sweat in distaste. "If the temperature bothers you, Commander, I suggest you go to the medical bay for a frigazine injection."

Initially developed to allow Starfleet crews to operate in desert conditions, frigazine was now outmoded and rarely used. Lakahn had to ask himself how, where, and why Gul Narat had obtained it, but dismissed the issue. He remained where he was, silent.

Gul Narat sighed in annoyance. "Is something the matter, Commander?"

"Permission to speak freely?"

Irritably, the small Cardassian tapped his fingers on his console. "Commander, we arrive at Keltok Nor in less than two minutes, and the only word I've had is that there has _been_ no word from the station. I expect us to be in a very dangerous situation, very soon: this is _not _a good time."

"I'll be quick," Lakahn promised.

There was a silence while Gul Narat considered, but then he nodded. "Very well." His voice had a sudden icy chill to it. Lakahn shivered but continued:

"With all due respect, I'm _not _one of your men. I have no idea what you want me to do most of the time. Would it be so difficult to _ask_ me to come to the bridge?"

"Why _else _would I send Glinn Ledrec-?"

"I don't know!" In his frustration, Lakahn interrupted Gul Narat before realising that it might not be wise. The Cardassian had barely shown himself all morning, but he'd shown himself to be quite far removed from the charming man he'd made himself out to be. And the crew was terrified of him. Still, Lakahn didn't stop his tirade: "There might be hundreds of reasons! But that's beside the point. The point is this: I can't perform my duties if I don't know what they are. I'm not questioning your orders, _sir_," he said. Ledrec had made it very clear that one didn't question Gul Narat's orders, period. "I'd more more than happy to follow your orders if you'd _give _me orders I can follow."

"Commander," Gul Narat said in asperity, "this is a _very _bad time. For now, your orders are to stand at your post and tell me if anything important happens. Do you think you can handle that?" he asked sarcastically.

Lakahn scowled, but dipped his head in the Cardassian manner. "Aye, sir."

Gul Narat nodded, turned around, then stopped. He turned back. "And, Commander?"

"Yes, sir?" Lakahn asked.

"We will continue this discussion later. Make no mistake about that."

Ledrec glanced over at Lakahn in something that might have been sympathy, but said nothing. Lakahn took his station and scanned the information on his screens. Nothing 'important'. As with all the screens Lakahn had used that morning, this one showed Federation Standard translations of what he assumed was the original Cardassian. Most of screens he hadn't had to use were covered in Cardassian characters; he could only assume that either Gul Narat or Glinn Ledrec had ordered all the screens he'd be likely to use translated.

A second passed.

Two.

Then the _Gavran_ dropped out of warp, and they beheld the station.

"By all the Prophets," Lakahn whispered, stunned. He was unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle in front of him, only dimly aware of the other two. As if in a trance, Gul Narat rose to his feet. Ledrec simply looked on, eyes and mouth wide, in horrified silence.

Keltok Nor was torn in half. One section was motionless in position, giant plates of the hull simply torn off. Fragments of the station floated through space. The other section was torn into pieces, as methodically dissected as a Keltarian frog in a biology class. A Cardassian ship hung nearby, at the edge of the debris field, but it wasn't that which drew the three men's attention.

It was a cube. A giant cube floating in space.


	8. Gul Jecett

Gul Narat remained motionless, for once absolutely speechless. His mind screamed at him that this was impossible; something must be wrong; of _course_ something was wrong; there was a Borg ship in front of him; something was seriously wrong; there was a _Borg ship_ in front of him! The Collective had been destroyed decades ago! _How was this possible?_

"Have they noticed us?" he asked calmly.

Glinn Ledrec's console beeped faintly as he scanned the cube. It remained where it was, motionless. "No, Gul Narat."

"Lifesigns aboard the station?"

"One thousand forty-seven, Gul."

Gul Narat nodded. "And the Borg?"

More beeping. "I'm not registering _any _of them aboard the station, Gul." Surprise and disbelief were evident in Glinn Ledrec's voice.

"Try again," Gul Narat commanded. He half-turned to address Commander Lakahn. "Hail the other Cardassian ship," he said, recalling that the Commander had demanded precise instructions. Ordinarily Gul Narat might simply have said 'Open a channel', but the Commander might well be foolish enough to hail the _cube_. It wouldn't have been a shock.

A light flashed in the corner of one of the screens on Gul Narat's console. "They're answering," Commander Lakahn reported.

_I know that_, Gul Narat thought in irritation. "Put it on the viewscreen," he ordered, though he could more easily have done it himself.

A woman appeared on the viewscreen, facing away. She wore her hair in three pigtails, one on either side of her face and one nearly as thick as Gul Narat's wrist hanging down her back. Turning, she offered a smile that was as dazzling as it was empty. She had a slender, round face and full lips. Her crest was a brilliant blue, only slightly darker than her eyes, which were rimmed by slightly angular scales. The ridges were asymmetrical, giving her a wry expression. "This is Gul Jecett of the _Seltras_," she said. "Who are you? And how did you get here?"

"Gul Narat of the _Gavran_, but this really isn't the time to swap life stories. What happened here?"

Gul Jecett glanced suspiciously at something behind Gul Narat. "You have a Starfleet Bajoran aboard your ship," she observed.

"Imagine that," Gul Narat said dryly. "It so happens I'd already noticed. Now tell me what happened here." He used the _you-will-do-what-I-say_ tone that was so effective on others.

After a brief staring match, Gul Jecett looked away. "Central Command reported a distress call from Keltok Nor. As the closest ship, we were dispatched to investigate."

"Were you?" Gul Narat asked suspiciously. "Because it so happens that I was told _we_ were the closest ship. How is it, Gul Jecett, that Central Command _forgot_ to inform me of your presence?"

"I don't know, Gul Narat." Gul Jecett's eyes were narrowed to slits. "What I'm curious about is why Central Command didn't inform me that _you_ would be here."

Gul Narat rolled his eyes, secretly delighted at the opportunity. "If you insist on it," he said, "I'd be more than happy to trade transcripts of the messages _if_ we survive, and if you like we can argue about who's untrustworthy _then_. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me what these Borg have done since you arrived."

Not a fool, Gul Jecett didn't point out that it was he who'd deviated from the straight and narrow of the conversation. "Not much," she said of the Borg. "They'd already dissected the station when we arrived. I saw them take pieces of it into their cube, but they haven't used any of their usual tactics. Fortunately they've totally ignored us."

"And you haven't engaged them?"

"Our orders were not to interfere, Gul Narat."

Gul Narat shifted his attention to one of the small screens on his console. A section of the cube had detached from the rest and was flying towards the station. It had a very deliberate course, and Gul Narat had a sudden suspicion of the function of the cuboid. He addressed the other Gul softly without looking up: "You'd make a terrible _kotra_ player, Gul Jecett." The cuboid had reached the station and was using what Gul Narat recognised as a tractor beam to slice off a small segment. Part of the segment was pulled into the cuboid; the rest was left behind. "Stand by to receive new orders." He cut the connection and looked at Glinn Ledrec, who shook his head. He still hadn't registered any Borg aboard the station.

But that didn't matter, because Gul Narat had already made his decision. "Destroy it," he ordered.

"The _cube_?" Commander Lakahn asked in alarm.

"The station," Gul Narat said impatiently. "We engage the cube only if absolutely necessary. Target the central cores," he said to Glinn Ledrec. To Commander Lakahn: "Order Gul Jecett to get our people out of there. Her cargo bay should be large enough. I'd also like whatever it is those Borg were tractoring into their cube." Without waiting for acknowledgement, he turned again to his Glinn. "Take us in."


	9. Unpleasant Memories

**Author's Note: This is not a nice chapter. I didn't enjoy writing it but it's necessary to understand some of the things that happen later on. If you want it in a nutshell (*SPOILER ALERT!*) Glinn Vekal has discovered a familiar name on the crew manifest, a name belonging to a man who did some pretty bad things to her when she was a kid. Now she's terribly conflicted over what to do with that information. *END SPOILER.***

* * *

Vekal sat on the couch of her quarters, eyes closed, wrestling with her inner self. One of the names she had read on the crew manifest had immediately flagged her attention; the face that was paired with it had made the connection undeniable. She'd seen it decades ago as a young girl.

Her childhood wasn't the sort of thing she liked to remember. It was the sort of thing, in fact, that she preferred to forget about altogether. It had not been pleasant.

There had been the beatings, the hunger, the cold, the brushes with the law inevitable for an orphan on a station where the only authorities were bored, hardened prison guards. She hadn't batted an eyelash at those; that was simply the way of things. As a child without family connections or status, she'd had no place in the world. No, none of those things were the source of her current dilemma.

But there were other experiences, dark images which lurked in the back of her mind and the memories of which haunted her dreams. She'd always had a prodigious memory, but often wished she could forget. She'd been eleven the first time a man had taken interest in her, and her mind had already been developed well enough to store every second of that experience somewhere in its recesses. He was a criminal. Somehow he'd curried enough favour with the guards to arrange for a young girl to be delivered to his cell. Vekal had been well known to the guards; one of the few beggar children who made their permanent home on that cold, desolate station and the only one who preferred to work alone. She wasn't a social animal in the first place, but more importantly she'd never trusted the other children not to steal what little food she could scrounge. She knew that the less assertive, smaller members of the local gangs often starved. She would have been one of them.

So she'd been a loner, and her preference had seen her through most of her childhood relatively unscathed. But that night, it had also made her the perfect choice for the prison guards.

She didn't know and more importantly had never cared to investigate how much time she'd spent in that cell, or how often the criminal had beaten her into unconsciousness. He'd gotten knives from somewhere, too, and sliced her flesh open until her blood covered the entire floor. Those days and nights had felt like an eternity. During that whole stretch of time, she'd never once left the cell. Her meals had consisted of scraps from the criminal's own plate, thrown to her whenever he felt she was growing too weak to be a satisfying punching bag.

Then he'd been transferred somewhere, and she'd been free. She'd stolen aboard a freighter to a nearby Cardassian colony that day, though it had never occurred to her to leave the station before. It was suicide. She knew the station, knew where food and shelter was to be had, knew what competitors she had to contend with. But at the time she hadn't been able to stay in that place for one day longer.

Desperate for activity, she'd stolen into a school and bluffed her way onto the roll call. While still scrounging for food and shelter wherever she could find it, she'd applied her mental gifts to the classroom in full and remembered every piece of information she was exposed to. With her record and abilities, her lack of an identity had been overlooked and she'd secured a position in the military. Never again had she worried about finding sustenance or warmth. Her clothes had been provided for her, an unexpected and welcome luxury, and on the whole she had been able to keep busy enough to push all memories of her experience to the back of her mind. She'd learned the name and identity of the criminal who'd abused her as well as enough information to allow her to entertain realistic ideas of revenge, but she'd also accepted that she was unlikely to get it. That matter, too, had been buried under the more mundane affairs of the years.

Now that was over with the discovery she'd made on the crew manifest. Her tormentor was aboard this ship. And after decades of calm devotion to the State, Vekal's priorities were sorely tested. What she wanted more than anything was vengeance. She felt she deserved it and there was no way anyone could realistically hope to stop her. But the matter was not so simple. In the worst case, she would be arrested and tried as a criminal by the Federation. Cardassia would renounce her but in all probability the Federation would try to hold her people responsible. The peace talks would break down. War might well be around the bend.

And in the best case, even if Cardassia wasn't held responsible, she would be. Which government would get to her first really made little difference. She'd be tried and imprisoned and her life would be over. There was no reason to sacrifice everything she'd built up for a confrontation with one criminal.

Besides, it would be a flagrant defiance of one of Gul Narat's direct orders. True, he was light-years away. True, he had no hold on her from where he was. But disobedience did not come naturally to her, even in a situation like this. And yet the nightmares persisted, would always persist until she put the matter firmly to rest. Vekal imagined herself having a good night's sleep for the first time since her childhood, a night without tossing and turning and dark thoughts assailing her mind at every turn.

In short, she was conflicted. But by the time she was done, she was fairly sure she'd reached a decision. Feeling more confident if not exactly _better_, Vekal left her quarters to explore the ship.


	10. Ten Forward

Some time later, a very angry Romulan woman strode into the _Orion_'s Ten Forward and headed straight for the bar. "Romulan ale," she snapped, glaring at the bartender/cook.

The latter, a towering Klingon known only as Maj, made no comment, only served a tall glass of an orange liquid. Ranka Tyreth glared at it, too.

"This isn't Romulan ale," she declared.

"No, it is not." Maj had a deep, growling voice that sounded like it had been dragged only reluctantly from the depth of the Klingon's chest. If the bar hadn't been between them and if Tyreth hadn't been in a foul mood, or if she hadn't known the Klingon, she would have taken several hasty steps backwards. Maj continued: "You are still on duty, and the ship's protocol clearly states-"

"I don't give a damn about protocol," Tyreth shot back. But she opened her jacket and hung it off the back of her chair. "Anyway, I'm now off duty and I'm still thirsty."

"We are out of Romulan ale," Maj growled without missing a beat.

Tyreth scowled, but she was unwilling to take her chances with the replicators. The Klingon was probably lying but she couldn't prove it and it didn't seem worth it to press the point in any case. Instead she took a drink of the orange liquid and nearly gagged. "What _is_ this?" she demanded. "It's _vile_."

Instead of answering the question, Maj just took back the glass and put in a replicator, where it dissolved into thin air, the molecules separated and stored for later use. "You are upset," Maj observed.

Fuming, Tyreth thought back on the morning's events. "It's that Cardassian," she growled. "Came down and poked around for a 'surprise inspection' of Engineering. Of course nobody told _me _about it and the damn spoonhead picked up half the ship's defense specs before I even knew she was there." In Romulan, Tyreth let fly a particularly vile expletive. "Has everyone on this blasted ship forgotten that these people are our _enemies_?"

"So are the Romulans," Maj observed in his low growl, polishing a glass. In his large hands, the glass looked like a tiny, delicate child's thing. He could crush skulls with those hands.

"_I_'ve proved my loyalty to the Federation," Tyreth snapped. "And I've had to work longer and harder than anyone else on this ship to get my post. But this Cardassian, she just drops out of _nowhere_ and we're supposed to hand over the ship's secrets? Why not just broadcast the codes for the planetary defence system across the border?"

"It was not the Cardassians who suggested this exchange," Maj reminded her.

Tyreth scoffed. "_That _doesn't matter. I fought in the war, remember? I know Cardassians. You can't trust them: Something's up."

"It would seem-" Maj began, but was interrupted by Captain Hughes on Tyreth's combadge.

"_Hughes to Tyreth._"

Sighing, she tapped her badge. "Tyreth here. What is it, Captain?"

"_The staff lunch begins in ten minutes. I hope to see you there._"

Tyreth gave another long, exasperated sigh. "I'll be there," she promised.

"Have a good time," Maj said. Tyreth threw him a death glare and stalked out of Ten Forward, jacket slung over one shoulder.


	11. The Cube

"We're almost in range, Gul Narat," Glinn Ledrec reported.

Gul Narat nodded without taking his eyes off the viewscreen. If he was in the least concerned, he gave no indication of it. Lakahn swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, as they approached the half-wrecked station. The sight of the huge cube filled him with fear. He wondered how the Cardassians could be so calm. If the Collective had somehow survived the Borg War... Lakahn felt his heart pounding in his chest. The whole universe was in danger.

As the _Gavran_ approached the wreckage, the _Seltras_ eased into position behind and beside them, using them as a shield from the cube's line of fire. There was a flicker around her as Gul Jecett disabled the shields, and a few seconds later another flicker as they were reactivated. A message appeared on one of the screens of Lakahn's console even as the _Seltras_ moved off like a dog slinking away. "G-" Lakahn began, but the word stuck in his throat. He swallowed and tried again. "Gul Jecett is done, sir. And we have the data from her scan."

"Thank you, Commander." Gul Narat seemed relaxed, but Lakahn noticed then that his hands were clenching the armrests of his chair.

"We're in range, Gul," said Glinn Ledrec. "Weapons locked."

"Fire."

Twin bursts of amber light shot from the underside of the _Gavran_. The closer target, hit first, exploded in a spectacular fireball. A second followed, even larger and brighter than the first, and so began the cascade. Section after section of the station erupted in flames and soon the _Gavran_ was in the centre of a raging inferno that boiled against her shields. Instinctively Lakahn took a step backwards.

The flames died as quickly as they'd erupted, and the station was gone. Simply gone.

The Borg cube remained, minus the segment that had flown out to collect part of the station, looming. It was easily a hundred times the size of the _Gavran_. A beep sounded from Lakahn's station; he stepped forward to inspect the display.

"They're hailing us," he said weakly.

Gul Narat glanced at him as if to ask whether he was all right, but all the Cardassian said was: "That's the least of our concerns right now." To Glinn Ledrec, he added: "Back us off and turn us around. Slowly. Prepare to go to warp." The giant nodded and entered the instructions in his console. Dangerously close the huge cube, the _Gavran_ slowly backed away, turning as it so, leaving it broadside to the cube when Lakahn's station beeped again, insistently. He looked at the display.

"Gul Narat!" he exclaimed in alarm. "They've just opened a channel!"

Rising and whirling around in frustration, Gul Narat opened his mouth, undoubtedly to get off another snide remark, but he was cut off:

"_We are the Borg_," hundreds of overlapping voices proclaimed_. _"_Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. You will lower your shields and surrender your vessel. Resistance is futile_."

Gul Narat opened his mouth to respond, closed it, and considered. He pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated, and muttered something untranslatable under his breath. "Glinn Ledrec," the small Cardassian said finally, "get us out of here. Maximum warp."

Glinn Ledrec gave a single, brief nod and the _Gavran_ shot off into space.

* * *

At 1057 hours, Vekal opened her eyes and rose from an unpleasant sleep. Having memorised the contents of Captain Hughes' PADD in just over one and a half hours, and not having been given any instructions to the contrary, she'd remained her her quarters. Though the Captain had been explicit in asserting that the crew had been told to expect her, he'd also implied they would be pleased. The faces she had seen told her otherwise and she had no desire to be shot at by an overenthusiastic security team.

So in her quarters she remained, and with nothing better to do had taken a nap. For once, she'd had no trouble falling asleep. Probably, she thought dryly, because of the long nights she'd spent awake recently reading up on Starfleet. Though her memory was excellent, she was a slow reader and the material had been dry, boring to her. She'd almost wished for sleep.

At least the couch had been reasonably comfortable, Vekal reflected optimistically. And perhaps she would find something to do at night, once she'd better assessed the mood on the ship, and the best way to avoid those who would keep too sharp an eye on her. Vekal smiled at the thought as she retrieved her outer armour and buckled it over her jumpsuit.

Mentally reversing the route to the turbolift, Vekal stepped out of her quarters and into the uncomfortably cold, bright corridors. As the light hit her eyes, sending pain shooting through her nerves, she sighed. She should have asked the computer to gradually increase the lighting and decrease the temperature to accustom herself to the rest of the ship, but it hadn't occurred to her. Next time.

In the meantime, her vision was adapting as she walked, though occasionally when she glanced up at the faces of the rare crewmen taller than her the glare from the overhead lighting would blind and disorient her.

She was two turns away from the turbolift when she recognised one of the bridge crew introduced to her earlier that morning. A blonde Vulcan wearing a security uniform strode towards her, also wearing what Vekal could only assume was a benign version of the Vulcan don't-mess-with-me expression. The Vulcan stopped as the distance between the two women narrowed. Vekal did likewise. They stood six feet apart, motionless.

"Ensign T'Lara," she recalled. "May I help you?"

The Vulcan looked as if she wanted to say something, but reconsidered: "I've been ordered to escort you to the Officer's Mess. I expected to find you in your quarters. Sir."

It was not lost on Vekal that all her movements on the ship had been supervised by either the First Officer or a security officer. Or would have been, had she not left her quarters early. "I didn't expect an escort," she replied, and she felt that if her tone was sharp it was forgivable. Being cool to one ensign couldn't jeapordise an entire treaty, surely. Vekal continued: "And from the information I was given I deduced lunch would be at 1100 hours. I thought it best not to be late."

She continued on her path, heading straight for Ensign T'Lara; the Vulcan stepped aside and then fell in step beside her. "You would not have been more than one minute late," she observed with a raised eyebrow. "Would this be unacceptable on Cardassia?"

Vekal chuckled. "Believe it," she said. "If Gul Narat ordered me to lunch at noon, the doors would be closed one second later."

"Hm," the Ensign said as the women entered the turbolift. "Deck five."


	12. Order 104

"They're following us," Glinn Ledrec reported.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," said Gul Narat. "How long until they catch us?" This was directed at Lakahn; he entered the calculation on his console.

"Ten minutes, forty-seven seconds, sir." When the Cardassian said nothing, Lakahn grew worried. He stepped around his console and stood beside the Gul's chair. "Gul Narat, we have to tell someone what's going on. If the Borg are back-"

"Commander, thank you for your advice, but I don't _have_ to do anything. Aside from which, I'd say a bit more investigation is necessary before we make any rash decisions."

"Investigation?" Lakahn repeated, incredulous. "What do you want to investigate? In-" he checked his console "-ten minutes thirteen seconds we're going to be assimilated!"

"I don't think so, Commander. The Borg aren't a concern. No, it's Gul Jecett," the short Cardassian said, rising to his feet and stroking his chin. "I don't believe... Ah," he said slowly, shaking his head, "something's _off _here, Commander. Something doesn't fit..." He turned and began pacing. As he approached the wall, he stopped and turned. "Glinn Ledrec," he said. "Route auxiliary power to forward phaser banks and fire a continuous beam directly ahead for eight minutes thirty-one seconds. That should be more than enough time."

"Fire?" The giant appeared confused. "With the forward banks, at this speed...?"

Gul Narat gave him a dangerous glare. "_Fire_," he repeated. "I'll give you further instructions later." Cowed, Glinn Ledrec bowed from the waist and typed something into his console. "I'll need to remodulate forward shields. It'll take a few seconds, Gul." The short Cardassian nodded and turned to Lakahn. "Come with me," he said.

Lakahn followed the shorter man into a side room. To him, it looked like a cross between the _Orion_'s observatory and Captain Hughes' ready room. Like the observatory, it was spacious and featured a long table running down its centre. It was divided roughly in half lengthwise, with one long strip being slightly raised and having numerous screens and consoles at its midpoint. Also at the midpoint was a large chair, like the one in the bridge, and in this Gul Narat settled himself.

To the other side of the table were two smaller chairs, maybe intended for the Glinns but more likely for visitors to the ship. Lakahn had already noticed that he and Glinn Ledrec seemed to spend most of their time on their feet.

Since he hadn't been asked, he didn't sit in either of the smaller chairs, but stood behind one, leaning his arm on the headrest. Maybe sensing that there was something he wanted to say, the small Cardassian said nothing. Instead, he just watched Lakahn with a mildly expectant expression. Taking a breath, Commander Lakahn steeled himself for the inevitable argument. "Gul Narat," he began, "are you familiar with Starfleet Order 104, Section D?"

"104-D?" the Cardassian repeated, puzzled. "No. Is it relevant?"

"Order 104, Section D, states that no Starfleet captain can command a ship if he isn't psychologically stable. I assume there's a Cardassian equivalent."

Gul Narat laughed. "Commander! Are you insinuating that I'm unfit for command? I assure you, I'm perfectly stable."

"Are you really?" Lakahn demanded. "Then explain why you destroyed Keltok Nor! Explain why you refuse to send a message to anyone about the Borg! And explain why you want to fire the phasers at nothing!"

The Cardassian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Commander, to answer your earlier question, no, there _is_ no parallel regulation under our laws. If you find a problem with my conduct, you're _more than_ welcome to submit a report to Central Command. The file will be reviewed and your complaint noted, and if all goes well we'll hear the verdict within a few months. In the meantime, if it will keep you quiet, I'll explain. I trust you're familiar with the concept of the 'sonic boom'?"

"Of course," Lakahn said, caught off guard. "It's what happens when a ship goes supersonic in a planet's atmosphere. As you approach the sonic barrier, you form a superdense pocket of air in front of you. At supersonic speeds, that pocket forms a cone, and the pressure changes become sound waves that sound like explosions to those on the ground. Hence, 'sonic boom'."

"_Very _good, Commander," Gul Narat said in amused tones. "Now, as it turns out, the transwarp threshold is very similar to the sonic barrier. As you go beyond warp ten, you create a similar distortion in subspace. Come to think of it, I think it was a Federation scientist that first discovered the effect. You call it a Ludwig-Hermann singularity. It's why it's so very _dangerous _to be near a ship crossing the transwarp barrier.

"Now, the _Gavran_ has a maximum speed of warp 11.2 _exactly_, which is the speed we're now travelling at. It also happens to be the speed where you begin to build a Ludwig-Hermann singularity." Gul Narat paused, tilted his head, smiled. "It was actually Glinn Vekal and I, nearly a decade ago, who first theorised about the 'transwarp blast', that one could build the singularity to catastrophic proportions by firing into it. I assure you, our calculations are sound. As you know, phaser fire travels at exactly transwarp threshold speeds, so it neither escapes the singularity nor rebounds back on the firing ship until you actually break the barrier, at which point you've effectively create a 'subspace boom'. It's _obviously _not very practical when dealing with a small, streamlined ship like the Federation's, or Cardassia's for that matter. Those ships would just slip through the singularity with minimum damage. A_ cube_, on the other hand... Well." The Cardassian gave a truly evil grin. "A transwarp blast can obliterate planets. And as formidable as the Borg shields are, I highly doubt they can stand up to that much sheer force."

Lakahn stared. "Are you telling me this ship has transwarp abilites?" Even the Romulans hadn't developed that kind of technology yet!

"Oh, _much _better than that, Commander." Delighted, Gul Narat smirked. "What did you think Cardassia was doing while the rest of you were heroically battling the Borg? But that's not what I wanted to discuss with you. Frankly, what I wanted to talk about is _you_.

"You've committed three and a half acts of insubordination in your time here, and frankly I'm not impressed with your abilities as an officer, either. If you were a Cardassian, I'd have you reassigned to scrubbing floors in the embassy on Breen. As it is..." He shook his head scornfully. "The only reason you're still on this ship is because I can't do anything about it. Not without risking war, and that I _will not _do. But at the same time I won't put my ship at risk because of your incompetence. I'm taking over your duties until I find a better substitute. You're welcome to ride shotgun if you like, but if you question me again on that bridge, or interfere in any way," said Gul Narat in a soft, steady voice Lakahn hadn't heard from him before, "you _will_ regret it." And with those words, the Cardassian swept out of the room, leaving Lakahn alone.

The door closed behind him. Lakahn sighed and slapped the table in frustration.

He couldn't understand it. What was Gul Narat up to? He'd said himself he didn't want to risk compromising the peace treaty, and yet he'd been nothing but hostile. And what incompetence? Lakahn had barely been given anything to do; how could he possibly have failed so completely in one or two little tasks as to drive the Cardassian to such irritation?

* * *

Outside, Gul Narat pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Were his orders so difficult to follow? What was _wrong _with the Commander? He couldn't seriously have any intentions of upsetting the established order on the ship: any problems he caused would be resolved within a few days of his departure. As a member of Starfleet he could hardly hope to commandeer a Cardassian vessel; even if such a coup succeeded, the crew would simply _not _follow his orders. No. If there was an ulterior motive, and Gul Narat was usually good at discerning such things, he couldn't see it. And yet the Commander couldn't be such a fool, either. Something was out of order here.

With a mild headache building, Gul Narat walked over to Glinn Vekal's station and, entering a command, brought it back to its original display settings. The confusing Federation text reverted to Cardassian. Nothing seemed wrong with the growing singularity in front of the _Gavran_, and the Borg cube was closing according to plan. All according to plan, and yet Gul Narat felt uncomfortable.

"I'll be below," he informed Glinn Ledrec. Sending the giant a _look _that told him inform him if anything catastrophic happened, and to keep the Commander on the bridge, Gul Narat left the bridge.

* * *

As he was about to leave the room, Lakahn noticed something he must have missed before. One of the drawers on Gul Narat's side of the long table was half-open. His curiosity got the better of him and he stepped around the table to inspect it more closely.

Opening the drawer, he found it empty but for a Federation PADD with an open file on its display. It was written in Cardassian.


	13. Lunchtime

The main features of interest on Deck Five, if Vekal remembered correctly, were the holosuites. That was the only place on the deck they could be going, unless the Officer's Mess was located in a Jeffries tube or a storage compartment. Unlikely. But she was confused nonetheless. According to the maps she'd memorised, the only locations where group consumption of food was permitted were Ten Forward, on Deck Ten, private quarters, and the captain's dining room, which was in the forward section of Deck Two. That was where Vekal would have gone.

She didn't understand why she hadn't been told about the change, but she didn't like it.

The hallways of this deck were as wide and bright as any, but there were virtually no doors. As Ensign T'Lara led her to one of these, she took unusual care in noting the details of the route. They would all appear in her mental database later, but by the time her mind had processed them it might be too late. But try as she might, she could see nothing out of the ordinary, no inconspicuously-placed plasma traps or transport beacons, or anything at all but doors and continuous, otherwise uninterrupted stretches of wall.

The Vulan stopped in front of a wide, two-panelled door. Scrawled across one of the panels was something in the incomprehensible script of the Federation. She'd learned their alphabet, recognised the shapes, but they refused to form a meaningful pattern.

"'Holosuite One'," Ensign T'Lara read, probably noticing Vekal's confusion. She pressed a button beside the door and a chime sounded, alerting those inside.

Vekal smiled. "Thank you, Ensign." Pause. "I have been studying the Federation languages," she said as the door slid open, "but there are so many of them!" The _Orion_ was a Terran vessel, true, but she hadn't known which vessel she'd be assigned to. It could have been any ship. "And languages are not my speciality." _That _was true. Her languages instructor, years ago, had proclaimed her to be worst student in the quadrant. Though she was fairly sure on statistical grounds that it wasn't true, the insult still rankled.

Through the open door, Vekal saw a holographic replication of a wooden room with a laden table in its centre. It took her several seconds to register the round windows showing seascapes outside, the ancient instruments hanging from the walls, the fact that the table was bolted down, but when all these things had been processed her mind returned the conclusion that she was on a seafaring vessel.

And surrounded by the senior staff, all wearing formal white Starfleet uniforms. This simulation was warmer than the rest of the ship, but only slightly and it was just as bright. Vekal appraised the situation, almost instantly coming to a conclusion she didn't like at all: These Federation people were trying to catch her off balance and at a disadvantage. She straightened her back somewhat indignantly and offered the room her most charming smile.

It was returned, hollowly, by Captain Hughes. "Ah," he said. "Glinn Vekal. Please, join us!" Nobody else seemed pleased to see her, though about half the room at least made the effort to seem happy.

She bowed from the waist. "Thank you, Captain." The door closed behind her and vanished seamlessly into the illusion. Ensign T'Lara was left outside. And Glinn Vekal was left alone in the midst of the _USS Orion_'s senior staff.

Aside from the Captain, Lieutenant Chell, Counsellor Saden, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Tyreth, all of whom whom she already knew, there was only one other person present. A blond Trill wearing a blue jacket, whom she recognised from the crew manifests of the morning as Chief Medical Officer Doctor Lieutenant Commander Ezran Tal. She wasn't sure she had those titles in the right order, though. "Doctor Tal," she said simply, offering a smile and a brief dip of the head. "A pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine," the Trill said with a smile.

_No doubt_, Vekal thought. Certainly there was none elsewhere in the room. She made a show of inspecting the environment, taking note of the ancient maps plastered to the wall. They were crude, but from them she assumed this was meant to be a Terran environment. "Where are we?" she asked.

"We're aboard the _Dragon_, a sailing vessel from Earth's history. Mid-seventeen hundreds, I believe." Probably to honour the environment, Captain Hughes had donned a large black hat with a wide rim, turned up at either side and forming a triangle at the back. _In any case, _hopefully _to honour the environment_, Vekal thought dryly; the hat looked terrible.

Fashion concerns aside, she was about to ask why they were in Holosuite One rather than the captain's mess, but recalled just in time that nobody had actually told her where the lunch would be. Clever, she thought. "Are these era dishes?" she asked, indicating the buffet. On the whole, she doubted it. She recognised one or two Vulcan dishes, something that might have been Andorian ale, and several items at whose origins and function she wasn't even going to guess.

"No," Captain Hughes said. He took a plate and handed one to her. Following suit, the other four officers in the room took a plate apiece and began serving themselves. As the Captain did the same, Vekal hung back and watched the others out of the corner of her eye, trying to determine what this food was and how it should be approached. "These are fairly standard dishes throughout the Federation. Since this is supposed to be a cultural exchange, I thought you might like to sample some of the things we eat on this side of the border."

Noticing her confusion and apprehension, the Captain stepped closer and proceeded to explain, in a low voice, the nature of each food item. The intrusion into her personal space made Vekal's nerves jangle, but to step away would have been the height of rudeness. She concentrated instead on the Captain's explanations. Sometimes one of the others would step in, Lieutenant Chell to explain what Andorian redbat was and how it was best eaten, or Doctor Tal to demonstrate how to get a Trill crab out of its shell, and gradually Vekal began to relax. She hadn't offended anyone, no-one had attacked her, this was all right for the time being. She noticed that the Captain had relaxed as he spoke as well. Initially cold, he was now positively genial. "Any questions?" he asked jokingly.

"As it happens... ." Vekal hesitated. "Captain, there _is _something I wanted to ask you about."

"Of course," he replied, surprised.

"Crewman Octet," Vekal said. "How long has he served aboard this ship?"

"I..." Caught off guard by the clearly unexpected question, Captain Hughes appeared to concentrate. "I'm not sure, offhand. Why do you ask?"

Helping herself to a piece of sliced Terran pig meat and lying it across a slice of toasted bread as she'd been instructed, Vekal shrugged nonchalantly. "I read his name on the crew manifest you gave me. I thought I recognised it somehow." She paused. "I must have been mistaken."

"The mind can play tricks," Counsellor Saden said. The Suliban shapeshifter poured herself a tall glass of Romulan ale and took a sip. "Deja vu is a common phenomenon among many people."

"How true." Vekal dipped her head and took an experimental bite of the 'sandwich'. The toast was warm and crunchy, a wheat product, a counterpoint to the cool and juicy meat. The molten fat between the two layers added an interesting salty undertone. It was the most revolting thing she'd ever tasted. Repressing the urge to gag, Vekal swallowed the bite she'd taken. She set the sandwich down and didn't touch it again. Politely, she commented on the food's excellence.

The meal progressed, at times quickly when it was carried on the currents of conversation, at times slowly when someone stumbled on a sensitive topic. Vekal had no idea how long they lingered over the meal, but it must have been several hours. And by the time it was all over, she was fairly sure that the atmosphere had changed from one of mutual distrust and concealed loathing to one of tolerance.

All according to plan.


	14. The Countdown

The singularity in front of the _Gavran _was now almost as large as the ship, and the walls shook with the strain of pushing against it. Gul Narat was in engineering, working beside Gil Ressol as they struggled to keep the supspace compression stable. His heart was in his throat as he typed frantically on the displays in front of him. "We need more power to the forward phaser coil," he said.

"There is no more power!" Gil Ressol cried, working on two consoles at once. "And we're losing what little we've got! The circuits are degraded 74 percent... 76 percent... 80 percent!"

Gul Narat saw the numbers flashing across his own screens and was about to enter his command when a shock shook the ship, his station flashed and spewed sparks and went black. "_Yan-pret Cardasa!_" he swore in frustration even as he looked for another workplace. Technicians were rushing about, but they kept out of his way. He stumbled to a station near the wall. "Reroute power through the lateral stabilisers," he ordered, forcing his voice to be level. "Engage the backup system and cut all nonessential systems."

Gil Ressol didn't even acknowledge the order as she worked, fingers flying, eyes wide and mouth half-open in concentration. After what could only have been seconds but felt like an eternity, she looked up at him. "Done, Gul." The shaking of the ship lessened.

"Regulate the shield harmonics," he ordered, sweeping his hair out of his face with one hand. It had come loose during the shaking of the ship and stuck out wildly in all directions. "Keep the balance between two-sixteen and two-fourteen."

"Yes, Gul."

He called up the circuit diagrams and scanned them. Degradation was close to ninety percent, now. It had been the strain of switching on auxiliary power that did it. At least it wasn't getting any worse. But with the power from two sources running through the network, with fried conduits at every turn, it was going to be a nightmare to restore the systems. It was a miracle the ship was still operational at this point. Gul Narat made a mental note to put Gil Ressol up for recommendation.

"Bridge," he said, tapping the communicator he wore at his wrist. "What's our status?"

"_Shields at 4.7%_," Glinn Ledrec reported. In his mind, Gul Narat let fly another blasphemy. They had been too busy keeping the ship in one piece to notice. "_We're starting to take hull damage, Gul._" _That_, he had noticed. "_Integrity's at eighty-one percent._" _And we haven't even engaged the cube_ went unsaid. Although his voice didn't show it, Ledrec must have been rattled. It was rare he addressed his superior in such a tone.

Coolly, Gul Narat nodded to himself. "Is the cube within range?"

There was a pause. "_Not yet, Gul._"

"Let me know the instant it is." His heart was racing, thudding against the lattice of his ribcage, and he tried to pull himself together. Soon this ship would tear itself to pieces, and the Borg cube was nowhere near close enough. And suddenly doubts flooded his mind. Would the blast be strong enough? What if the Borg knew what was going on? He couldn't see how that was possible; to be gaining on them, the cube had to be travelling at transwarp speeds, which would make most of their sensors virtually useless. Or would it? Again his mind grappled with the impossibility of the situation. The Collective was _destroyed_; everyone knew that! How-

He closed his eyes briefly and collected his thoughts. He couldn't afford to be sidetracked. "What's the status of the singularity?" he asked Gil Ressol.

"Thirty-one thousand _yerrets_, Gul." Sparks flew and she had to shout to make herself heard. A note of panic had entered her voice.

He nodded and gave her a _look_ to engage the pan-dimensional transwarp drive, stepping over to assist her. "I don't know if the core can handle this," Gil Ressol shouted as another console exploded. "We might overload!"

"Frankly I'm surprised we haven't already!" Gul Narat retorted.

"I can give you fifty-two _peryeta_ if we shut down all systems," she said and Gul Narat ran a swift mental calculation. His engineer beat him to it, though: "That gives us a two-second burst, no more!"

"That'll have to do," he said. "I want full shields when we go to n-space!"

Gil Ressol shook her head. "That's impossible, Gul!"

"_Make _it possible," he snapped in a tone that declared the discussion closed.

"_Shields are gone, Gul Narat!_" It was Glinn Ledrec, sounding positively terrified. "_The Borg are closing!_"

"Are they in range?" Gul Narat demanded, cursing mentally at the numbers that were much, much too low before him.

"_Ten seconds, Gul._"

"Keep me informed!"

Looking back and forth like a trapped wompat, Gil Ressol hit upon the one thing they hadn't done yet: "I can give you twenty-five percent shields and a one-point-five-second burst if I shut down life support on nonessential decks, but we need to clear them fast!"

"_Eight seconds!_"

"Shut it all down!" Gul Narat commanded, still working frantically on the device. "Give me whatever we've got!"

"_Six seconds!_"

Five.

Four.

"We're ready, Gul!"

Two. He was no longer aware of who was speaking, or what was going on.

One. "Go!" he shouted. "NOW!"

There was a flash of bright light, and then everything went dark.

* * *

The impact was colossal. The subspace compression, the transwarp blast, caught the cube head-on. Shards of metal flew everywhere. The cube crumpled in on itself from the collision, leaving a crater the size of a small moon. Inside the cube, vital conduits were cut and energy surges sent sparks shooting everywhere. Drones were blown apart where they stood. Then the compression hit the energy core.

It triggered a spectacular explosion. Corridor after corridor of the Borg cube erupted into flames. Jets of fire spurted from the faces of the cube. Fragments of the twisted metal flew off in every direction.

When it was all over, the cube was no more and the _Gavran_ had vanished. There was only a debris field many miles across, interspersed with bodies floating in space.


	15. Crewman Octet

It was a sheer coincidence that she found him: Vekal had just finished her tour of sickbay and was rounding the corner that would lead to the turbolift when she nearly collided with Crewman Octet.

For a few seconds they stared at each other. Octet was an old man now, white-haired and shockingly thick about the middle. He wore a Starfleet uniform with a blue jacket and he held a PADD, but it might as well have been his prison uniform and a knife for all the difference it made. He had changed more than his clothes, too; she remembered a lean young man with a dark, leering face. Sharp as the knives he used and keenly ambitious. Now that visage was wrinkled and tired. There was no sign of arrogance anywhere about his features. In fact those features had been altered, too. With the help of a surgeon, probably several surgeons, Octet had become Human. But Vekal recognised him all the same. She had recognised his eyes and the distinctive set to his mouth from his photograph on the crew manifest, and now a thousand other details screamed at her. His posture, his mien, even his scent triggered the memories. Vekal froze. Octet was equally startled. In shock, he took a step backwards, and Vekal knew that he didn't recognise her. He saw only her uniform. Knew what she was, but not who. If he knew _who _she was, he wouldn't have shied away.

He would have turned tail and fled. "Can I help you?" he asked, somewhat resignedly. Maybe he was holding out the faint hope that she didn't know who he was, what he was, but it didn't show in his voice.

Vekal looked him up and down, this fat old man looking at her without any idea of who she was. "_Cel-dar skrach mel dorek_, _ghencadas,_" she spat venomously. Then, collecting herself: "That wound be a start."

Shocked by the outburst of profanity, Crewman Octet stared. Fool, Vekal thought contemptuously, but the old man was also afraid. Perhaps not such a fool. His hands shook as he raised one in a futile gesture of self-defence. "_K'dor a tebr?_" he whispered. Who are you?

"_Pav'rovat gulinn azrel Gul cek-Narat_." An aide to Gul Narat. It was best to establish her rank first, though it was also on her uniform, to tell Octet that she was no longer someone to be trifled with. "_Jemovat nazev cea-Vekal,_" she added, identifying herself. _Now_ there was understanding underneath the fear, which had intensified and sharped into desperation. Like a trapped wompat, Octet glanced frantically around him. They were absolutely alone, as if there were a forcefield around them. The crewmen who had been walking past had vanished. Octet stared at her in absolute terror. "_Thiko'la-_" he began, quickly.

"Not who?" Vekal was unable to keep her face from twisting into a cruel smirk. Octet was trapped and he knew it. Helpless. Anything he could say would be an admission of guilt. He'd confessed the instant she'd said her name.

Now, he took another step backwards. "You- you must-"

"I must nothing!" she hissed, stepping forward, invading his personal space to show her dominance. "You- you are in no position to make demands," she said, forcing her voice to be calm. Gul Narat's words came, unbidden, into her mind. _You're not to make any mistakes. You're going to be an ambassador for the Cardassian Union. _She shook her head, wishing she could forget. Wishing she could even pretend to have forgotten. But she was here on a mission. She had her orders, and she couldn't jeopardise the plan for this... person. "You are nothing but a pathetic _ghencadas_. I have work here, and believe me that is the _only _reason you're still alive. Or at least," she said, flicking her eyes down his quivering, thick form in contempt, "here. If it were up to me I'd have you sent to Romulus for execution. Certainly nothing we can do would be fit punishment for you, but I hear the Romulans can prolong death for weeks, even months! And they would be quite pleased to get their hands on you, wouldn't they?"

"I-I've changed, I swear!" Octet held both hands up now, still backing away. "I've never done any of the things they think I did! I..." Vekal advanced threateningly. "Shut up!" she roared. Again she had to force her raging emotions down. "Don't... say another word. As far as our friends across the border are concerned, _I_ know you're innocent, but I can as easily prove your guilt. Remember that." Octet opened his mouth to speak; she headed him off angrily. "Remember it! And while there's nothing I'd like better than settling the score with you, I won't. Not here, not now. You're not worth it." Be calm, she reminded herself. "I will, however, be here for several more days. And I promise you, the next time I see you-"

"You won't!" Octet interrupted hastily, clapping a hand over his mouth just as quickly as soon as he realised he'd spoken against her direct order.

"You will die," Vekal finished. "As slowly and as painfully as can be arranged." She smiled genially and dipped her head. "Do we understand each other?"

"Yes!" Octet cried. "Yes, absolutely! I-I'll stay out of your way! It won't happen again!"

Vekal nodded firmly, driving her point home: _I hope not_. "As you were, Crewman." She swept past him and strode into the turbolift without a backwards glance. "Deck Seven."

The doors closed and the turbolift accelerated. Vekal closed her eyes and tried to banish the memories Octet had awakened. If she never saw that scum again, it would be too soon. She closed her eyes. "Stop," she ordered. Obligingly, the turbolift slowed and halted. Vekal opened her eyes again and straightened her shoulders. "Engineering," she said.

Aboard the _Gavran_, she hadn't spent much time in engineering, only enough to familiarise herself with the systems well enough to be able to handle an emergency. It was one of the requirements of her job; she had no interest in dealing with the various malfunctions of mechanical equipment on a daily basis. It was far too repetitive for someone like her. She was a scientist more than an engineer, an explorer more than a problem-solver, but she didn't want to run into anyone in the science departments.

Besides, she hadn't quite memorised all the ship's secrets yet.

* * *

Crewman Octet looked left and right and saw no-one. He took an all-purpose communicator from under his jacket and tapped it once. "It's done," he said in a shaky voice. The woman's threats had rattled him; he knew how easily they could be carried out. And the Romulans would tear him apart. But he had other concerns, too.

"_Good,_" said a voice over his communicator. It was so distorted he couldn't tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman, or what language the voice was speaking. "_I want you to stay away from her from now on._"

"I understand." Staying away wouldn't be a problem; Octet would be only too happy never to see the woman again.

The connection went dead.


	16. Under Arrest

Gul Narat awoke slowly, dimly aware that someone was speaking to him. He grunted in response, hoping it would give him time to assess his condition. Not that there was much to it, he soon discovered. His body hurt. His hands hurt worse. His head hurt worse still.

He opened his eyes, but could make out nothing. His vision was blurred. He tried to focus and, with difficulty, realised that he was looking at the ceiling. With a supreme effort, Gul Narat focused his attention on an erratic light he'd noticed near the edge of his vision. It wasn't a light, he soon determined; it was a shower of sparks descending at intervals from a wrecked console. The dim yellow of the warp matrix pulsed softly nearby, fading in and out of his vision.

So he was on the floor of the Engineering department.

He tried to remember why and what he was doing on the floor where he found himself, but it was as though his brain was wrapped in fog. He began to grow frightened. It was unusual for him not to remember. He didn't have anything like the eidetic memory of Glinn Vekal, something obvious to any Cardassian who met them, but a Human or a Bajoran would not have been able to tell. This sluggishness of his mind was something he couldn't recall having experienced before.

Yes, he realised then. His memories of the distant past were intact. Gul Narat did a mental sweep and found that all was as it should be with exception of the last... period of time before whatever had happened to him. He remembered a case study from his training. It was the classic reaction to a head trauma. It was a safe bet that he had a concussion.

Gingerly, he touched his fingers to the place where his right forehead ridge met his hairline, right where the pain was worst.

His hand found moisture and gristle and came away covered in blood and hair and deformed, warped and charred... _bits _of something that had probably been a part of him once.

The insistent voice registered again, deep and concerned. Right... he should probably address that. His hearing was clearer now, his vision improving, and he saw nobody in his vicinity.

Gil Ressol's body lay close by, but she couldn't be the speaker. For one thing, she wasn't a man; for another, her face had melted.

Gul Narat forced himself to look away from the gruesome sight and again tried to concentrate. He wet his lips, tasting blood and burnt flesh, and tried to determine whether he would be able to speak. His throat was raw and burnt and his lips all but gone. Speech would be difficult and painful; the only question was, how difficult and how painful?

When he decided that, yes, it could be done without embarrassing himself, he lifted an arm to touch the communicator on his wrist. He found twisted and scorched metal, fused to his wrist by the shocks of pain the touch sent through that part of his arm, but it was miraculously functional.

"Here," he said, struggling to sound calm and confident. "What's our status?"

"_We're in n-space,_" the voice, which he recognised as Glinn Ledrec's, reported. "_Heavy damage to all decks, especially the forward section and main engineering. I have life support and internal communications functioning but not much else is. The Commander is alive but unconscious. Are you injured, Gul?_"

A ridiculous question, but Gul Narat decided not to comment on that. "Not severely," he said, assuming that Ledrec would be able to read between the lines. He couldn't quite bring himself to admit that he was lying half-molten on the floor.

Instead of thinking about that in too great a depth, he looked around the wrecked engineering room. "What about the crew?" He was not optimistic. None of the technicians in his line of sight had stirred yet and he doubted they ever would. It all depended on the difference implied by the word _especially_.

"_No reports yet, Gul. Sensors tell me the shielding on the bridge and around the forward weapons bays held. The lower and rear engineering decks are relatively undamaged, with about eighty-seven percent of the crew alive as far as sensor readings can tell. But I don't know how many of them are going to stay that way._"

Glinn Ledrec fell silent for a few minutes, during which Gul Narat tried to concentrate. He remembered...

Engineering. Fleeing from the cube. Consoles exploding. The transwarp blast. At this, Gul Narat smiled grimly. It'd have worked, of course. The Borg cube was no more.

But the Gavran had almost been lost herself. He remembered frantically scrambling to erect some sort of shielding, keeping the circuits from fusing, being forced to disable even life support. At least Ledrec had gotten it back online; the atmosphere would have turned toxic within a few hours otherwise and Gul Narat had to admit he didn't know how long he had been unconscious. Long enough for his Glinn to get some systems online, obviously, which couldn't have been a short time.

"_Gul Narat,_" Glinn Ledrec said over the communicator, cutting into his thoughts, "_we're being hailed._"

What? Gul Narat mustered the energy to frown, instantly regretting it as the contortion sent pain shooting through his raw nerve endings. "_It's Gul Jecett_," Glinn Ledrec reported.

"Put her on. Audio only."

There was a short silence over the communicator, but when at last someone spoke it wasn't Gul Jecett. "_She refuses to speak to someone she can't see, Gul._"

More likely she wanted to see the damages for herself. Well, Gul Narat thought in a sudden flash of inspiration, why not let her? "Very well," he said. "I have nothing to hide."

On the other end of the comlink, Glinn Ledrec made no comment. A monitor over Gul Narat's head fizzed to life, and Gul Jecett glared at him from under a mask of heavy static. His position relative to the screen also meant that she was not only at an extreme angle but also upside-down.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"_Gul Delar Narat,_" said the woman, "_you are under arrest. You will return to real space and surrender your ship immediately. Resist and you will be destroyed._"

Well. That was unexpected.

"Excuse me," said Gul Narat with a smirk, "but _how _exactly do you plan to destroy me when your sensors can't even pick us up?" It wasn't a bluff; similar to certain types of nebulae, the interdimensional barrier blinded sensors. And Gul Jecett might be able to extrapolate the _Gavran_'s coordinates in 3-space with time and luck, but there was absolutely no way she could determine their location in 5-space.

But Gul Jecett merely smiled. "_You know as well as I do, Gul Narat, that you will have to return to real space eventually. And when you do...and I'll be waiting._"

That wasn't a bluff either, he knew. In the space in which the _Gavran _now found itself, there was no other life, no resources. To stay here would be death. And they could only enter real space from the point they'd left it, and Gul Jecett had in all probability already arrived at the debris field that had only recently been a Borg cube.

He chose not to waste time by protesting his innocence. Instead his mind was racing. It was as if the fog had been lifted, and his brain was functioning more smoothly than ever. "And what crime," he asked cheerily, "am I supposed to have committed?"

Upside-down, Gul Jecett sneered. "_Stand up,_" she said. "_I won't discuss this with a man who can't even get to his feet._"

Gul Narat concentrated and tried to sit up. Almost immediately, black swirls clouded his vision and the room began to spin. A wave of nausea came over him and he promptly lay down again. "No," he decided; "I think this is comfortable. Now I ask again, Gul Jecett: what is it I'm _charged_ with?"

"_You are __**under arrest**_," said Gul Jecett, stressing the words, "_for the destruction of the penal colony and the Cardassian outpost on board Keltok Nor __**and **__the murder of thirty-one Cardassian citizens._"

"You didn't beam them to your cargo bay?" Gul Narat asked, feigning surprise. Of course she hadn't; if they were alive she couldn't very well claim that he'd murdered them.

Gul Jecett ignored him, however. "_You fired twenty-two photon torpedoes on Keltok Nor while they were running a diagnostic that required them to lower their shields._" The _Gavran _didn't even have that many torpedoes, Gul Narat thought irritably. "_You will return to real space immediately and prepare yourself for trial and execution. Jecett out._"

The connection went dead.


	17. A Mess

Lakahn woke up with the mother of all headaches to see Glinn Ledrec and Gul Narat standing over him. Neither looked any better than he felt; in fact both looked haggard and tired in addition to their injuries. Ledrec's face was covered in blood and a piece of shrapnel had lodged itself just under his right eye. Lakahn also noticed that he stood off-balance, not putting any weight on his right leg. His armour was dented and scarred in many places. Gul Narat's face and hands were covered in burns and his uniform had several holes in it.

He tried to sit up but the motion made his head buzz. Dizzy, he lay down quickly and waited for the room to stop spinning. "What happened?" he asked. The last thing he remembered was a flash of bright light and then the sudden, impenetrable darkness.

Gul Narat raised one burned hand to gesture around the room. They were in the _Gavran_'s sickbay. Lakahn had seen it before during his orientation. At the time, he'd been impressed by the meticulous organisation of the medical supplies and the overall neatness and cleanliness of the room.

Now, it was a dark mess. Injured Cardassians lay everywhere, on the beds and on the floor. Some were burned like Gul Narat, others bloodied and bruised but none of the injuries seemed fatal. One man's thigh was impaled by a twisted piece of metal nearly a foot long. Curiously, Lakahn thought, they were all silent and for the most part motionless. Those that could tended to themselves; the others held their own wounds and rocked quietly in place, clearly in pain as they waited for one of the stronger Cardassians. These, too, were bloodied and in one case missing some fingers, but they did their duty.

Once in awhile one of these would come over and try to tend Gul Narat's wounds; he waved them away impatiently and they departed only reluctantly. "You've been unconscious for several hours, Commander. Are you all right?"

Lakahn nodded. "As well as can be expected, I think. I'm having trouble remembering, though. Where... where am I?"

"We were pursued by the Borg," Gul Narat said in answer to Lakahn's question. "Do you remember that?"

Lakahn tried to concentrate through the fog clouding his mind and nodded, hesitantly. Gul Narat, on the other hand, exuded confidence even in the face of this latest catastrophe. "Then you also know that we created a transwarp blast to destroy the cube." Despite his condition, Gul Narat spoke in an unhurried tone, as easily as if they were sitting comfortably over lunch. Lakahn remembered that he hadn't eaten since arriving on this _Gavran _and his stomach rumbled. Gul Narat continued: "What you don't know is that I ordered this ship taken to n-space. I'm afraid the physics are rather complicated, but suffice it to say we left real space somewhere behind us." For the first time, the small Cardassian gave a grunt of pain at the end of his sentence but quickly covered with a smile, and Lakahn suddenly understood that he was coping with his pain by ignoring it. He wondered how long Gul Narat could keep it up. "As far as the universe is concerned, we've just disappeared into thin air.

"Now, as for the damage to the ship, the _Gavran _was never made for five-dimensional travel and the technology is still in experimental stages. This is our first test under fire, as you would say." He paused, chuckled. "As you can see, our scientists haven't quite worked out all the kinks.

"We were only able to raise forty-seven percent shields and the hull took the brunt of the impact from the transwarp blast. We had numerous breaches and I'm afraid I lost most of my crew, if not during the actual escape then during the past few hours. What you see here is what's left." Lakahn looked around. Barely half of the _Gavran_'s original crew remained. "The others are dead or soon will be. They're being tended to, of course, but I'm not optimistic." Gul Narat paused for a moment, dipping his head as if to honour the sacrifices of his crew, then continued. "As far as you're concerned, Commander, you were quite fortunate compared to the rest of us. Maybe there's something to these Prophets of yours after all." The Cardassian flashed him a brief smirk. "You've been unconscious for several hours. We were starting to worry, but you have only minor damage to your skull and what must be quite the raging headache. Non-life-threatening, in other words. Other than that and a few cuts and bruises you're all right."

Lakahn considered getting up again, but on second thought he decided to remain right where he was. The very memory of the last time he'd tried made him nauseous. "What now?" he asked.

"Now, Commander?" Gul Narat flinched and grimaced as if a wave of pain had come over him, but he straightened even as Ledrec moved to assist him. Waving the giant off, Gul Narat looked Lakahn up and down and shrugged. "Now we repair our systems. I regret the deaths of my crew, but I certainly have no intention of joining them just yet."

"Can we get back?"

Gul Narat chuckled. "Back? Ha, ha! I wasn't expecting that from you, Commander. I thought you'd be more concerned with my callousness in the face of so many deaths. Whatever happend to your precious morality, your Federation values?"

Lakahn was about to reply when he realised that the Cardassian wasn't attacking him but just teasing. Nonetheless he was somewhat offended. "I still have those values," he asserted, "but I'm not stupid. You're not interested in hearing about ethics."

"True," Gul Narat admitted. "Now, your question... We were discussing that before you woke up." Lakahn had seen exactly how much discussing went on aboard the ship and could only assume that it was either a euphemism or Gul Narat's idea of a joke. "I don't know the extent of the damage so far, but once again I'm not overly thrilled about our prospects. Every system on the ship, including life support in all areas but the two currently occupied by my crew, has been deactivated in an effort to conserve power. External communicators are burnt out. Our warp core is very nearly depleted and I highly doubt the _Gavran_ has enough power to return to real space."

Lakahn's face fell as he realised just what their situation was. With very little power and much of the crew dead, stranded in an otherwise empty... space... it seemed there was nothing to do but wait for death.

"There's an alternative." Lakahn turned his head towards Glinn Ledrec, who'd spoken. Gul Narat did the same, and his expression said clearly that he'd have preferred the giant keep his mouth shut. But Lakahn was curious and Gul Narat seemed to sense that he wouldn't rest until he got an explanation. The small Cardassian sighed resignedly. "One of our shuttles is still operable. It's small enough to make it to real space under its own power, or should be," he explained. "But it can only carry five or six people, and it would take a superb pilot to make it over in one piece.

"It's a last resort," he added quickly. "Whoever takes the shuttle could alert Central Command to the situation and request a rescue operation. But it would mean leaving the remaining crew of the _Gavran _behind and I doubt they'd take kindly to that idea." Indeed, even as Gul Narat outlined the plan, his back was getting venomous glares from those crewmembers who were close enough to hear what he'd said. Lakahn didn't see the Gul look around, but he must have been aware of the stares, because his next few words were clearly addressed to the crew: "I've programmed the shuttle to respond to my commands only. We wouldn't want anyone to try to take matters into their own hands. We must all keep the _entire_ crew's interests in mind before making any decisions."

"We could send an unmanned probe with an automated message," Lakahn said. "It doesn't need to get over in one piece, it just needs to get the message to real space. Surely your chief engineer could put some sort of autopilot program together...?"

"Gil Ressol is dead," Gul Narat said unceremoniously. "Her console exploded when circuits powering the n-drive overloaded and she lost her head. Quite literally. It wasn't pretty." He paused and smiled grimly. "It's not a bad idea, Commander. An autopilot program isn't difficult to write, and the n-drive itself is relatively undamaged. It could be done. But there's another problem."

"Great," Lakahn said, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"Gul Jecett managed to send us a message at what must have been a colossal expenditure of power. I'm afraid the contents were... less than friendly. I've no doubt she'll destroy us if she can. She can't _follow _us because she doesn't know our coordinates, but you can count on her being ready and waiting to intercept anything or anyone we send back."

Lakahn sighed and touched a hand to his forehead. Gul Narat might like the sound of his own voice, but as far as he, Lakahn, was concerned, it was getting old fast. And yet he couldn't even get up without feeling faint, much less help in any way. Another nurse came over with a Cardassian tricorder to inspect Gul Narat; she, too, was waved away impatiently. She turned to scan Glinn Ledrec, who ignored her. Lakahn noticed the nurse taking discreet scans of Gul Narat at intervals, but if he was aware of it he chose to ignore it. "So we can't turn to your government, is that what you're saying?"

"Exactly." Gul Narat nodded, and Lakahn considered.

"Then I don't suppose there's any chance we can contact the _Orion_?" he asked finally.

Gul Narat widened his eyes slightly, this time in what Lakahn supposed must be the Cardassian equivalent of raised eyebrows. He took it as a sign to continue. "We have a large engineering department. Ranka Tyreth, our chief engineer, knows something about Cardassian technology. If we could establish a link she could give us a hand with repairs." And best of all, she wasn't Cardassian.

In the meantime, Gul Narat's face had assumed a calculating expression. Lakah could practically see some convoluted scheme forming in the small Cardassian's brain. After a long consideration, he nodded thoughtfully. "It would be easier if Gil Ressol were alive, of course. The n-drive will have to be installed in the shuttle, and that will take time..." Gul Narat trailed off, considering. "Excellent idea, Commander."


End file.
